The Phantom of the Barricade
by RainWillMakeTheFlowersGrow
Summary: Marius is finally learning to shoot straight-but from who? Valjean is worried he's going to lose his spot as star marksman. Cosette has found Marius at last, and isn't going to give him up. Courfeyrac is spreading rumors about a phantom. Enjolras and Combeferre are determined to get to the bottom of it all. All are watched by a masked gamine-the Phantom of the Barricade.
1. Cast List

**A/N: I had totally forgotten that I promised to write this for you guys. And then Éppy Liz reminded me. So you can all thank her! Anyways, I don't have the first chapter typed up yet, but here y'all have the list of who's gonna be who. Ah, can't you guys just picture Marius as an opera singer? So yeah, we have the events of POTO unfolding upon the barricade. I guess there really isn't anything to review yet, but if you tell me you want to read it, I'll update faster. *hint, hint* So yes. Éponine is going to live under the barricade, I guess. I just realized that this AN is getting ramble-y and pointless. Also that I have started three sentences with the word 'so'. I'm gonna stop now...**

THE CAST

CHRISTINE...MARIUS

ERIK (THE PHANTOM)...ÉPONINE

RAOUL...COSETTE

CARLOTTA...VALJEAN

JOSEPH BUQUET...MONTPARNASSE

MME. GIRY...GAVROCHE

MEG GIRY...COURFEYRAC

ANDRÉ...ENJOLRAS

FIRMIN...COMBEFERRE


	2. Prologue

June 7, 1832

Cosette crept through the shadows. She didn't know why she had felt the need to return here, to the Rue Saint-Denis. But here she was, nevertheless.

The streets of Paris were silent—much more so than they had been so last night, when she had stood fifteen feet below this very spot and waited for Marius to make his choice. Cosette shivered, looking around. _Is she here? Even now?_

The silence was broken by a man with long, scraggly hair climbing out of a door near the ground. _The sewers? _she thought. She watched, sickened, as he began picking among the bodies of the dead. As he did so, he talked to himself in a nasal tone.

"Lovely gun here...I'll be able to make a pretty...sou...off of that one, yes indeed...and what have we here?" He had found it, Cosette realized. The cup Marius had spoken of. She lunged for it, forgetting all thought of secrecy as her fingers closed around it just before the man did...he barely had time to look at her, startled, before she was up and running, running through the streets, mindless of skirts and shoes getting muddy...

She reached home at last, breathless, clutching the cup tightly. She had found what she had set out to do, she could at last get inside, warm herself by the fire, perhaps have a cup of tea...

The gamin was waiting for her.

_You again?_ she knew her expression said.

His own countenance was expressionless as he held out his hand. She clutched the cup even tighter and shook her head.

He stared at her for a moment, then scampered off into the darkness. Cosette smiled. _Victory._

Before going inside, she paused to look at her prize carefully in the moonlight. It was a crude, wooden cup, with indecipherable carved designs on it. "A collector's piece indeed," she murmured. "Every detail exactly as he said." She stared at it. One of the carvings was, she was sure, a round, wide eye, staring directly at her.

_"Will you still be here when all the rest of us are dead?"_

She opened the gate and hurried into the house. Papa was waiting for her.

**A/N: I felt bad posting a story without actually posting anything, so I wrote this in about twenty minutes. I feel like it's actually rather good, considering. And it wasn't funny, so I think I'm gonna change the category from Humor. Oh, and I realized that everything I had written in my Red Five-Subject Notebook of Enjolrasness was crap, so I'm going to rewrite the whole thing. FIE UPON FANFICTION FOR DESTROYING ALL OF MY AWESOME SPACING FROM LAST CHAPTER! FIE, I SAY! **

**This chapter has caused someone to be added to the cast list. **

**THE AUCTIONEER...THENARDIER (with an accent that I'm to lazy to type)**

**Reviews are my bestest, bestest friend. I'm not going to be one of those people who says, "I'm not gonna write until I get ten reviews!" because, in my opinion, that's kind of obnoxious, but they will make me update faster.**


	3. SHE'S HERE, THE PHANTOM OF THE BARRICADE

**A/N: Here's another unnecessarily long AN...**

**I took another look at my Red Five-Subject Notebook of Enjolrasness, and some of it was quite good and rather funny, and so we are back on for the Humor category. Oh, and Cosette is randomly feminist.**

**Huh. You know, that really wasn't that phenomenally long. Hurrah! And now, review replies:**

**Anonymous: Glad you liked it. Hopefully this wasn't too long to wait.**

**Om: EEEE! I'm excited too.**

**Mars: NEVER. But here's your little cameo...I didn't include the whole song...sorry, I'm not sorry.**

**TheJondretteGirls: This is so much fun. Heehee...*maniacal laugh***

**PhoenixGirl97: Thanks! Yeah, I just haven't gotten a chance to read it yet, sorry.**

**Om: Sure! Wait, but that would make him besties with Valjean! Hm, maybe he'll be, like, trailing him around or something...**

**Oh, and the ninety of you who _didn't_ review? Yeah, thank you guys, too.**

**...**

**That was sarcasm. **

* * *

La, la. There were many people hanging out at the barricade—you know, like ya do—and they were ad-libbing up a storm as they prepared to rehearse that night's battle. An overture played epically in the background, foreshadowing several of the melodies that would play a part in the events about to unfold...

A tall teenage girl with dirty blonde hair and green eyes was overseeing it all. She was wearing an Aaron Tveit T-shirt and carrying a huge red flag. She was immensely proud of having this flag and brought it up in nearly every conversation she ever had with anyone, ever.

"JEAN PROUVAIRE!" she called, and said poet came scurrying up.

"Yes, Mademoiselle Lefebvre?" he asked. She just stared at him in awe.

He waved his hand up and down in front of her face. "Mademoiselle Lefebvre? What did you need?"

She blinked. "Oh, right. I need you to gather everyone together. I have...an ANNOUNCEMENT to make!"

_Huh. I wonder if it's to confirm the rumors of her imminent retirement that have been circulating since she arrived an hour ago_, Jehan thought as he skipped off to spread the news.

The girls turned around and found herself face to face with two more young men—one with brown hair and glasses, the other an amazingly handsome and perfect, marble-skinned man with beautiful blond curls. "EHMAGERSH IT'S YOU!" she squealed.

"Indeed," said the second man. "Michel Enjolras and Henri Combeferre, at your service."

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm needed back in the 21st century by six. I'm an important part of the ceremony, you know—I'm playing 'La Marseillaise' on the tenor sax!" she explained hurriedly in a way that was somewhat incomprehensible to Enjolras and Combeferre. She pulled on a National Guard uniform over her jeans and T-shirt. Then, despite her claim that she was in a rush, she then proceeded to pull a saxophone out of nowhere and perform a stunning rendition of 'La Marseillaise.' Enjolras and Combeferre, being familiar with the song, sang the lyrics, which, on the saxophonist's insistence, I shall include:

**ALLONS ENFANTS DE LA PATRIE LE JOUR DE GLOIRE EST ARRIVÉ! CONTRE NOUS DE LA TYRANNIE L'ÉTENDARD SANGLANT EST LEVÉ ENTENDEZ-VOUS DANS NOS CAMPAGNES MUGIR CES FÉROCES SOLDATS? ILS VIENNENT JUSQUE DANS VOS BRAS. ÉGORGER VOS FILS, VOS COMPAGNES!**

She wants me to put in the entire song, but that's just ridiculous. Anyway. Jehan had gathered a sizable crowd in front of the Corinthe. They jostled around as they waited for Mademoiselle Lefebvre to make her announcement.

"So, you guys have all heard the rumors of my imminent retirement, right?"

They nodded.

"Well, I'm here to tell you that they're true and," she glanced at her watch worriedly, "thisis'FerreandEnjythey'rethenewleadersbye!" She dashed over to Jehan, gave him a quick hug, and leapt over the barricade, calling, "Oh, and watch out for the Phantom!" on her way out.

A second later they heard: "No, guys, I'm one of you! See my uniform?"

Then: "VIVE LA FRANCE! VIVE L'AVINIR! VIVE LA SALSA!"

A gunshot.

"Well, that's a pity," remarked Courfeyrac.

"Er...well, then!" Combeferre said, looking somewhat shaken. "We are pleased to introduce our new sponsor, Mademoiselle Cosette Fauchelevaunt!" A beautiful, cheerful-looking girl came traipsing out of the Corinthe and waved in the general direction of the crowd, looking around, interested.

"Why are you letting a _girl _on the barricade?" Courfeyrac was the one to say it. He coughed and, looking at her again, said, "Not that _I'm_ complaining."

"Ex_cuse_ me! But who exactly are you and why are you such a sexist pig?" Cosette asked in a voice as clear as a bell and as dangerous as a Punjab Lasso, coming up to Courfeyrac and poking him in the chest. "Women have rights too, you know! I care for France just as much as you do, and if I can give my money to buy you people weaponry, then I think I can dang well come up to the barricade myself and see what you're going to do with it!"

Unfortunately, as Cosette was about a hundred and thirty years ahead of her time, this speech was met with blank stares and awkward shuffling of feet.

She sniffed. "I'm going to go check on that drunk fellow passed out upstairs." She trotted off.

"Ow," Courfeyrac said, a little late.

Marius, standing next to him, was in shock. "It's Ursule!" he murmured, also rather belatedly. "Before she moved away...we stared at each other in the Luxembourg...I guess you could say we were sweethearts. But...her name is Cosette?" Marius pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket with the letters 'U.F.' on it, looked at it, and shrugged.

"Marius, she's so beautiful!" whispered Courfeyrac.

"Yeah," Marius sighed. "I guess she doesn't remember me, though."

Meanwhile, Enjolras and Combeferre were meeting the rest of the insurgents.

"_Ciao_, Monsieurs!" an older man with white hair said, bowing to them. "Ah ahm Valjean, ze first and best marksmahn for ze barreecahd."

"Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Valjean," Enjolras said, turning to Combeferre and mouthing, _What sort of accent is that?_ Combeferre shrugged.

A small gamin popped up out of nowhere. "I'm Gavroche! I stand around and be awesome. Anyhoo, here's the spy, we keep him in the corner here." Apparently Gavroche had appointed himself as tour guide. He gestured to a man tied to a pillar in the corner of the wine shop. "Yes, this is Javert, say hello to him, gentlemen—"

Combefere and Enjolras did as they were told and waved to the spy.

"This over here is my friend Courfeyrac," Gavroche said. "And _this_ is Marius Pontmercy—"

"Pontmercy? Curious name," Combeferre said.

"It's French."

"Exotic! Any relation to the not-very-famous colonel of Napoleon's?" Enjolras, with his extensive knowledge of French history, asked.

"His son, Monsieur! Always has his head up in the clouds, I'm afraid..." Gavroche shook his head.

"I wonder—" Combeferre began, craning his head back to look at Valjean. "If Monsieur Valjean would be willing to demonstrate his skills for us?

"But ahf coarse, Monsieur!" Valjean said, overhearing him. "Feuilly, mah gun!" The student obediently handed him the carbine and set up a target. Monsieur Valjean took aim and fired. The bullet hit the exact center of the target.

Combeferre and Enjolras applauded enthusiastically. Valjean smiled, bowed, and was aiming to shoot again when—

THUNK! A barrel came crashing off of the barricade and onto Valjean's foot.

"OWIEOWIEOWIEOWIE!" he screamed, holding his foot and hopping up and down.

"SHE'S HERE, THE PHANTOM OF THE BARRICAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADE!" screeched Courfeyrac.

"Monsieur! Monsieur, are you all right?" Combeferre asked Valjean, apparently not hearing Courfeyrac's proclamation. Valjean nodded piteously. "Then who was responsible for shoring up that section of the barricade? Show yourself!"

A young, well-dressed man with a flower in his buttonhole who was twirling a knife, said, "I was, but I'm certain it was well-supported when I finished it, sir!" What this out-of-character-character was doing at the barricade will, possibly, remain forever unknown. We'll just chalk it up as a plot convenience for now. "It must've been a ghost!"

"IT'S THE PHANTOM OF THE BARRICADE! SHE'S HERE!" Courfeyrac shouted, highly annoyed that no one was paying him any attention.

I, however, will, and will recognize this piece of news to be worthy of ending the chapter.

* * *

**This chapter has caused THREE new additions to the cast list.**

**UBALDO PIANGI...JAVERT**

**FEUILLY...REYER...I GUESS**

**M. LEFEVRE...MARSEILLAISE (OR, JACQUES LEFEBVRE, KNIGHT OF THE PURPLE PANCAKES OR SOMETHING, AS SHE SOMETIMES CALLS HERSELF)**


	4. KEEP POWDER BARREL FIVE OPEN FOR MY USE

**A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAH! I'm not dead, I promise! I just got addicted to Abaisse...and now I'm sick and I have to watch the 2000 LM miniseries so I can laugh at it. So yeah and um here is a short chapter. I will not abandon this story! Or I'll at least tell you if I do! And I'll get around to updating DFW! I PROMISE! I'm so sorry...*sob*...**

As everyone rushed around, extremely excited by the fact that a piece of the barricade had broken off, an envelope fluttered down, landing amidst the carnage. Gavroche bent down and picked it up, noting its red seal. Glancing up, he put the envelope in his pocket and disappeared mysteriously.

"Monsieur, these things do happen," Combeferre tried to console the enraged Valjean, but to no use—the white-haired man was as enraged as a Spanish-Italian soprano who has been interrupted in her rendition of an aria from _Hannibal_'s third act. Just as an example.

"For ze pazt-a zree yahs, dese zings-a dew 'appahn!" he exclaimed. (I'm serious, this is what it sounds like Carlotta is saying.) "And deed Mademoiselle LeFebvre stop zem from 'appening? _Nao!_ And yew tew," he pointed at Enjolras and Combeferre, "Yew are as bahd as 'er." Enjolras and Combeferre were taken aback. "'Dese zings-a dew 'appahn,'" Valjean said mockingly. "Well, unteel-a yew stop zese-a zings from 'appahning, _zis zing_," he said, pointing at himself, "_does-a not 'appahn!"_

He stalked off, calling to Extras Number 7 and 32, "Yew two! Bring mah cahndlesteeks." Extras 7 and 32 meekly followed him, the former pausing to deliver a biting, "_Amateurs,_" to Enjolras and Combeferre.

The two exchanged a what-have-we-gotten-ourselves-into glance.

"_Ciao_," Valjean said in his unidentifiable accent as he exited the scene. "Now yew see. Bye-a bye-a, I'm really leaving-a.

Feuilly shook his head and collapsed on the ground.

"Monsieur Valjean—he will be coming back, won't he?" Enjolras asked him as he left. Feuilly shrugged and lay down, muttering about a headache.

"You think so, Monsieur?" Gavroche, who had been uncharacteristically quiet up till this point, asked, smirking.

As they turned to look at the boy, he held up a paper. "I have a message from the Barricade Ghost."

"Oh, Robespierre in heaven, you're all ob_sessed_," Enjolras cried, throwing up his hands.

Gavroche, ignoring him, continued, "She welcomes you to her barricade—"

"Wait just one minute!" Combeferre interrupted. "Why does this 'ghost' suddenly own _our_ barricade?" In a lower tone, he added, "I would mention the fact that women have no place at a barricade in the first place, but I have no doubt Mademoiselle Fauchelevaunt would start jabbering on about Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton again..."

"And commands that you leave powder barrel five open for her use..."

_They number their powder barrels?_ Enjolras mouthed to Combeferre. Combeferre, looking bored, shrugged.

"...and reminds you that her salary is due."

That got Combeferre's attention. "Her _salary?_"

"Madmoiselle LeFebvre used to give her 200 francs a day," Gavroche continued, oblivious to the leaders' cartoonishly popped-out eyes. "Perhaps, with a bourgeoisie as your patron, you can afford more?" He glanced up. "Don't worry, she gives it back almost as soon as you give it to her, insisting that she 'doesn't want your money.' Not sure why she asks for it in the first place, matter of fact..."

"Gamin, I had _hoped _to announce that fact to the public tonight, when Mademoiselle Fauchelevaunt was to join us for the battle!" Enjolras was extremely angry, though he had not quite reached the level of the glare-o-death™.

Marius glanced up sharply at this, and began whispering with Courfeyrac.

"Obviously, we are now going to lose before we have even begun, as it appears we have _lost_ our best marksman!"

"Surely, there must be someone nearly as good..." Combeferre suggested, but this was shot down immediately by Feuilly.

"There is no one as _good _as _Le Valjean!_"

**Awkward ending...yah...but it's something! **

**This movie sucks. Mme. Thenardier is way prettier than Fantine. And ew. ****_That's _****the Bishop? Ew, ew, ew...**


	5. MARIUS' FATHER IS RAMIN KARIMLOO

**Welcome back to the oddness! Written under the influence of OBC Sweeney Todd! Mrs. Potts is singing about how she's baking priests into her pies. And review replies for the past two chappies! Yaaaaaay!**

**Darci the Thespian-Smiley faces to you too! Merci very muchly!**

**Om-I KNOW!**

**Mars-Whatever.**

**Mars again-I meant to put in a line about you handing it to Enj or 'Ferre...did I forget? And no, I'm not including those reviews. That would be a waste of valuable space.**

**TheJondretteGirls-What ****_does_**** it mean, pray tell? I dunno, never looked it up...**

**PhoenixGirl97-Apparently it's Oaken Pancakes. Whatever. But you can be the Knight of the Blue Waffles if it please your fancy, ma'am.**

**Om again-But mother! He's the best cow!**

**TheJondretteGirls-So, you watched the first episode! Huzzah for Valjean, ****_Jean_**** Valjean and his relationship with lovely 20 year old Sister Simplice.**

**Om AGAIN!-I LIVE!**

**Mars yet again-Yes I did. :P And NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I'M NOT GONNA!**

ATTEND THE TALE OF MARIUS PONTMERCY!

"We shall _all_ die, Combeferre! We shall _all die!" _Enjolras was tearing at his lovely golden locks.

"Marius Pontmercy can do it, sir," Gavroche said. Marius and Courfeyrac hovered behind him.

"What, a schoolboy like him? Don't be silly," Combeferre scoffed.

"He has been taking lessons from a great teacher," Gavroche insisted.

"Who?" Combeferre asked, directing the question at Marius.

"I—don't know her name, monsieur," Marius said shyly.

Enjolras facepalmed. "What is it with all the women at this barricade? Is this not nineteenth century France? Is this not a revolution?"

"Let him shoot for you, Monsieur," the gamin said, ignoring his aside. "He has been well-taught."

"All right..." Combeferre said cautiously. "Come on, don't be shy..." as Marius nervously stepped forward. Gavroche gave him a shove. "Come one, come along," Combeferre continued. "Just...shoot at the target there, Monsieur."

Feuilly handed Marius a gun.

"Combeferre, this is doing nothing for my nerves..." Enjolras moaned, rubbing his temple.

"Have a headache?" Combeferre inquired, momentarily distracted. Enjolras nodded piteously.

An adorable little boy popped up out of nowhere, holding up a bottle. "TRY PIRELLI'S MIRACLE ELIXIR, IT'LL DO THE TRICK SIR, TRUE SIR, TRUE. IS IT QUICK SIR? DO IT IN A TICK, SIR! JUST AS AN ELIXIR SHOULD!" he sang, thus proving that the authoress should most definitely not listen to anything while writing.

Oh, well. Marius, when he was sure the two men were watching, began to shoot at the target. He aimed, fired, and...

Whaddya know! He hit the red center. Then he did it again. And again. And again. And—

"All right, all right, magnificent!" Enjolras said, taking the gun. "No need to waste all that powder! You get the job, you'll be at the forefront of the barricade when the National Guard attacks tonight!"

And now, time for a

**SEAMLESS SEGUE INTO THAT NIGHT'S BATTLE! **

La, la, Marius was doing dandily. Suddenly, Cosette espied him standing atop the barricade, and the background music that had, thus far, been kind of playing awkwardly in the background while nobody sang along, swelled as she sang, "Can it be? Can it be that man?"

She hurried forward. "Long ago! It seems so long ago! How young and innocent, back then...he may not remember me, but I remember him!"

Marius shot one last National Guardsman, and the Guard began to fall back.

"Brava! Brava!" The Barricade Boys clapped and whistled. Marius blushed.

"They'll be back," Enjolras said, sighing. "But good job, m'lad." He patted Marius on the back.

Extra Number 14, watching the scene, hurried to an alley behind the barricade, where Valjean was waiting. The Extra smiled apologetically and Valjean swore and stamped his foot and was generally OOC. But it wasn't like he wasn't already.

Back to the barricade! Everyone was chattering happily, but Marius had disappeared. Courfeyrac squeezed his way through the crowd, looking for him.

Marius was lighting a candle for his father in a temporary chapel set up in one of the rooms of the Café. He pulled a well-worn letter out of his pocket and read it. It was written, obviously, by Ramin Karimloo, seeing as how this is the movie and not the musical. If this was the musical, Ramin Karimloo would have been playing Éponine, and then originating her role in the crap sequel that I refuse to watch.

"Marius...Marius..." sighed a raspy voice. Marius looked up.

"Marius..." Courfeyrac called. "There you are! Where in the world have you been hiding? Really, you were perfect! I only wish I knew your secret—who is your great tutor?"

"Courfeyrac..." Marius whispered, holding out the piece of paper. "When my father lay dying, he wrote me this note."

Courfeyrac read, "'My son—'

'The Emperor made me a baron on the battle-field of Waterloo. My son shall take this title and bear it. That he will be worthy of it is a matter of course... '

"Skip that part," Marius said impatiently.

"Right, right," Courfeyrac muttered. "'..someday my son, too, will be a hero on the battlefield. I will send the Angel of Battle to him when I am dead.'" He looked up. "So?"

"You, see, Courfeyrac," Marius said, smiling, "My father, Ramin Karimloo, said he would send me the Angel of Battle! And now—"

"Marius, do you believe—" Courfeyrac said hesitantly. "Do you think the spirit of your father's coaching you?"

"Who else, Courfeyrac?" Marius asked excitedly. "Who?"

Courfeyrac looked unconvinced, so Marius decided to sing. They had gone far too long without anyone singing, anyway.

"Father once wrote of an angel...I used to dream she'd appear...now when I shoot I can sense her...and I know she's here!"

"Waitwaitwait," Courfeyrac interrupted. "If this angel's a woman, why do you think she's your father?"

Marius, dear boy, hadn't thought of that. He bit his lip. "Dang! That might cause some plot issues later. What about Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again?"

"It's okay, no one really understands what that song's about anyway," Courfeyrac comforted him. "Let's just sing this song; it's quite pretty.

"Right. ...Here, in this room, she calls me softly, somewhere inside hiding! Somehow I know she's always with me, she the unseen genius!" Marius got up, as if to search for the angel right then. Courfeyrac grabbed his arm.

"Marius you must have been dreaming...stories like this can't come true! Marius, you're talking in riddles...which is quite...like...you...!" He led Marius out of the room, hoping to take him back to the rest of the groupl

Marius ignored his doubts. "Angel of Battle, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory!"

"Who is this angel?" Courfeyrac persisted.

"This Angel of Battle, hide no longer, secret and strange angel!" they both sang.

"Whoa!" Courfeyrac grinned. "Did you hear that? We, like both sang the same thing! At the same time! Without planning it!"

"She's with me, even now..." Marius was frightened, suddenly. Courfeyrac took his hand and shivered.

"Your hands are cold!"

"All around me..." he gazed at the walls.

"Your face, Marius! It's white!"

"It frightens me..."

"Don't be frightened!" Courfeyrac said, although it seemed that if Marius was convinced an Angel of Battle was watching his every move, he should be very frightened indeed.

From a dark corner, Montparnasse took a swig from a bottle. I probably should've given Grantaire that part...why didn't I give Grantaire that part? Anyway, Montparnasse was watching. And he smiled. I don't know why he was happy. He had just killed someone, probably.

**Mrs. Potts just discovered that Benjamin Barker is called Todd now. Sweeney Todd. Who made the decision to cast Mrs. Potts as someone who bakes dead bodies into pies? I'm confused.**

**Review, m'lovelies! I did, after all, basically end DFW so I could update this regularly...I would very much like some love...I think I'm gonna write another scene! Like, right now! You could get another update tomorrow! But I ain't making any promises...also, does anyone have a four syllable equivalent of 'best shooter' that would make sense in 'Prima Donna'? Cos I can't think of anything...**


	6. MARSEILLAISE IS AWESOME! OH YEAH!

*grins wickedly* (i may be doing this on the fly. That is, undercover...)

SUDDENLY, EVERYONE FELT THE IMPULSE TO SING LA MARSEILLAISE! LED BY JEAN PROUVAIRE (aaahhh the wonderful poet boy!) AND ENJOLRAS (aahhh the wonderful revolutionary leader!)! THEN THEY TRANSLATED IT INTO ENGLISH WITH THE HELP OF MADEMOISELLE LeFEBVRE! (who translated it during her lit final. Dont judge...)

Allons enfants de la Patrie  
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !  
Contre nous de la tyrannie  
L'étendard sanglant est levé  
Entendez-vous dans nos campagnes  
Mugir ces féroces soldats?  
Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras.  
Égorger vos fils, vos compagnes!

Arise patriotic citizens  
The day of glory is at hand  
The bloody banner of tyranny  
Has been raised against us  
In the fields, hear the shouting  
Of the fearsome soldiers  
Who are coming to cut your families' throats

Aux armes citoyens  
Formez vos bataillons  
Marchons, marchons  
Qu'un sang impur  
Abreuve nos sillons

Citizens take up arms  
Form your battalions  
March, march  
Spill the enemy's blood  
Over the land

Que veut cette horde d'esclaves  
De traîtres, de rois conjurés?  
Pour qui ces ignobles entraves  
Ces fers dès longtemps préparés?  
Français, pour nous, ah! quel outrage  
Quels transports il doit exciter?  
C'est nous qu'on ose méditer  
De rendre à l'antique esclavage!

What do this horde of slaves,  
Traitors and conspiratorial kings want?  
For whom have they wrought their vile iron chains?  
Frenchmen this outrage is prepared for us!  
What can we do to stop them in their plan  
To return us to the slavery of an evil past

Quoi ces cohortes étrangères!  
Feraient la loi dans nos foyers!  
Quoi! ces phalanges mercenaires  
Terrasseraient nos fils guerriers!  
Grand Dieu! par des mains enchaînées  
Nos fronts sous le joug se ploieraient  
De vils despotes deviendraient  
Les maîtres des destinées.

What! These foreign cohorts  
Would have themselves ruling our courts!  
Sending their mercenary phalanxes  
To murder our warrior sons  
They would bring us, chained, to our knees  
As they rule over us

Tremblez, tyrans et vous perfides  
L'opprobre de tous les partis  
Tremblez! vos projets parricides  
Vont enfin recevoir leurs prix!  
Tout est soldat pour vous combattre  
S'ils tombent, nos jeunes héros  
La France en produit de nouveaux,  
Contre vous tout prêts à se battre.

Tremble, tyrants and traitors  
Who bring dishonour to good men  
Tremble, for your evil schemes  
Will get their come-uppance  
We are all France's soldiers in the fight against you  
Ready to man the breach should our young heroes fall

Français, en guerriers magnanimes  
Portez ou retenez vos coups!  
Épargnez ces tristes victimes  
À regret s'armant contre nous  
Mais ces despotes sanguinaires  
Mais ces complices de Bouillé  
Tous ces tigres qui, sans pitié  
Déchirent le sein de leur mère!

Frenchmen, as magnanimous warriors  
Bear or hold back your blows  
Spare these sad victims  
That they regret taking up arms against us  
But not these bloody despots  
These accomplices of Bouillé  
All these tigers who pitilessly  
Ripped out their mothers' wombs

Nous entrerons dans la carrière  
Quand nos aînés n'y seront plus  
Nous y trouverons leur poussière  
Et la trace de leurs vertus  
Bien moins jaloux de leur survivre  
Que de partager leur cercueil  
Nous aurons le sublime orgueil  
De les venger ou de les suivre!

We shall follow our elders into the pit  
Where we shall find their ashes and their epitaphs  
We prefer to join them in death  
Or to avenge them, rather than live in shame

Amour sacré de la Patrie  
Conduis, soutiens nos bras vengeurs  
Liberté, Liberté chérie  
Combats avec tes défenseurs!  
Sous nos drapeaux, que la victoire  
Accoure à tes mâles accents  
Que tes ennemis expirants  
Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire!

Drive on patriots  
Support our avenging arms  
Join the struggle of those who defend  
Liberty, cherished liberty  
Let victory come to our banner  
And let your triumph and our glory  
Be the last sights of your dying enemies!

THAT WAS AWESOME!

AND THEN EVERYBODY STARTED READING A TALE OF TWO CITIES! INCLUDING YOU! VOILA LE FIRST SENTENCE.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

I may have that memorised...just possibly...

OH! AND! IF YOU ARE AN ATOTC FAN LIKE ME (well obviously **I **am...) KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED FOR A LM CROSSOVER TAKES PLACE DURING 1793! FEATURING Sydney Carton/Eponine (OTP OTP OTP OTP OTP OTP) onesided e/r, and more!

bye


	7. LITTLE HENRI CAN'T MAKE UP HIS MIND

**Toldja I'd do it, didn't I? Didn't I? I'm actually finishing writing this chapter less than an hour after publishing the last one, but I think I'd better wait till tomorrow to put it up on the web...kay?**

**Mars-*not speaking to you***

**...**

**Okay, I'm bad at that. Get better soon.**

**Guest-Mmm...I'm not feeling it...thanks for the thought, though...**

**Darci-*glares at Mars* Éponine/Grantaire! And Derek! And Bill Sikes...**

**llamas-alpacas-yaks-The fourth wall? I laugh in the face of the fourth wall. I like making people laugh hysterically, though...that's why I'm here...**

**Om-No review to that chapter. I feel empty, for some reason. You've spoiled me, O Master of Science.**

"No, no..." Gavroche pushed away Marius' admirers and led him into an empty room. Shutting the door, he turned to him, and, since OOC-ness had apparently become the fashion, said, "You did very well, my dear." He picked a rose up off a random table and handed it to Marius, adding, "She is pleased with you."

Marius accepted the rose and, as he stared down at it and pulled on the ribbon, Gavroche quietly exited the room.

* * *

"Mademoiselle!" Enjolras called. Combeferre waved Mademoiselle Fauchelevaunt over.

"We've made quite a discovery with Monsieur Pontmercy!" Enjolras said. **(The first time I typed it, I typed Miss Daae. And it didn't have the accent and I went to go hunt it down and copy and paste it and I still didn't realize what I had said. O.o)**

Cosette nodded impatiently.

"Perhaps we could present him too you, dear Mademoiselle..."

"If you wouldn't mind, gentlemen, this is one visit I should prefer to make unaccompanied," Cosette interrupted. Glancing down at the bouquets Enjolras and Combeferre were holding, she snatched one. "Thank you."

"It would appear they've met before," Enjolras muttered to Combeferre.

Combeferre nodded. "But...why are we holding all these bouquets anyway?"

"Hmm..." Enjolras picked a flower off the stem and dropped it on the ground. "I don't know. The National Guard just threw them over the barricade, and it seemed rude to refuse..."

* * *

Marius was sitting on a stool, contemplating the rose Gavroche had given him, when he heard a sweet female voice.

"Little Henri let his mind wander."

Marius looked up. It was _Her_! He broke into a smile.

"Little Henri thought, 'Am I fonder of action figures, or of goblins or shoes?'"

"It's—you!" Marius exclaimed, unsure as to exactly what he should call her. Cosette, or Ursule, or Mademoiselle...

"'Or of riddles or socks?'" Cosette smiled as she set the bouquet down on the random table.

"Those staring sessions in the garden."

"'Or of chocolates?'"

"Your father staring at me suspiciously..."

"As I read that random fairy tale about Little Henri to myself and randomly assumed you would know! And apparently you do! Which is good!" Cosette bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. It looked like she had had too many gummy bears.

"'"No, what I love best," Henri said, "is when I'm asleep in my bed, and the Angel of Battle shoots guns at my head...and the Angel of Battle shoots guns at my head..."'" Marius shook his head. "I've always wondered about that story. It seems rather depressing."

"_You_ shot like an angel tonight," Cosette smiling at him.

"That's another thing. Did angels ever strike you as very violent creatures?"

"Whatever. Are you glad to see me or not?"

"Of course, Mademoiselle..."

"Cosette," she said.

"And I'm Marius," Marius smiled. Pulling out his paper again, he said, "Father said, 'When I am in heaven, I will send the Angel of Battle to you.' Well, father is dead, Cosette. And I have been visited by the Angel of Battle."

"No doubt of it!" Cosette exclaimed. "And now, we go to supper."

"No, Cosette!" As she turned back and raised an eyebrow, he added, "The Angel of Battle is very strict."

"You will join me for dinner. That's NOT A REQUEST!" said Cosette, sounding very Beast-ish, and stormed out of the room without listening to Marius' complaints.

"No, Cosette, wait!" But she was gone.

The door slammed shut. A gloved hand reached forward, turned the key, and removed it. Gavroche watched from the shadows.

Lights went out all over the barricade. Everyone randomly fell asleep.

The candles went out in Marius' room and he looked up, startled. Suddenly, a hoarse voice filled the room.

"Insolent girl, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory!" Marius reached for the door, but it was locked. The voice continued, "Ignorant fool, this brave young mistress, sharing in my triumph!"

Marius turned, his eyes wide as a deer's. "Angel, I hear you speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me!" He shivered. "Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last, master...ess...mistress...no, that doesn't work..."

As he was pondering, the voice chuckled and became friendlier. "Flattering child, you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide...look at your face in the liquor...I am there inside!"

Marius cautiously went to the wine barrel in the corner. Pulling the lid off, he could just barely make out his own face reflected inside. And behind it...almost invisible...

"Angel of Battle, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory!"

It was easy to see, now. The face of a girl, perhaps the same age as Cosette and covered in a mask, was there, in the barrel. OMG. Crazy, right?

"Angel of Battle, hide no longer, come to me, strange angel!" Marius leaned forward, further and further, until his nose was nearly touching the blood-red liquid.

"I am your Angel of Battle..." sang the voice, somewhat off-key. "Come to me, Angel of Battle..."

Cosette, returning, heard this. Rattling the doorknob, she called, "Who is that voice? Who is that in there?"

"I am your Angel of Battle..."

"Marius. Marius!" Marius paid her no heed.

"Come to me, Angel of Battle..."

A black-gloved hand reached up and broke the surface of the wine. Marius grasped it and felt himself being pulled forward into the barrel...and then...down...into the sewers...

* * *

Grantaire woke up, as he hadn't appeared in this fic yet, and I'm rather fond of him. "Did someone say, 'liquor'?"

When nobody answered him, he sighed and resumed his position leaning against the wall. "Must've imagined it..."

**I know, I know. That was awesome. D'you know how awesome it was? It was so awesome that you feel compelled to review RIGHT. NOW. In fact, if you don't review, you feel like your life will be incomplete. **

**Still haven't figured out the Prima Don—**

**I figured out the Prima Donna thing! Halfway through that sentence! So yay! Rejoice with me! **


	8. FEATURING SARAH BRIGHTMAN IN VOICEOVER

**I am doing surprisingly well at updating every day. Er...won't be able to do it after this till Tuesday, though, cos I won't have access to my copy of the PotO film. **

**Mars-Just wondering, do we know any French words with the **v**? And what the heck, when I copy and paste it it doesn't even do the accent...whatever.**

**Om-*shakes head* I mean, seriously. She must've had a dictionary. Or...something. **

**Behold the next chapter. And I'm still listening to Sweeney, so yeah.**

The sewers were dark. Surprisingly. Also, there were no random candle people shoving candles out of the walls, like someone decided to put in the PotO film. I honestly don't know why.

Marius was scared. "MOMMY!" he shrieked.

The Angel of Battle, henceforth known to us, though not to Marius, as Éponine, patted him on the head. "It's okay. Just follow me, hon."

Marius obeyed.

"In sleep she sang to me...in dreams she came...that voice which calls to me...and speaks my name."

Marius was scared. Again. "OMG WHERE IS THAT VOICEOVER COMING FROM?"

"Shut up," Éponine snapped. "It's a montage scene. You're the one singing."

"If you're sure..." Marius was doubtful. "It doesn't really sound like my voice...it's kind of...soprano-y..."

"All right; it isn't you," Éponine admitted. "Sarah Brightman offered to do it, and it wasn't like we could refuse..."

"Jeez, you already had Ramin Karimloo! Why couldn't you—"

"JUST GET BACK TO THE SCRIPT! Take it from the top, Sarah."

"In sleep she sang to me...in dreams she came...that voice which calls to me...and speaks my name. And do I dream again...for now I find! The PHANtom of the Barricade is there...inside my mind..."

Éponine led Marius VERY SLOWLY down some steps. And then...more steps. She was also carrying a huge-o flaming torch. Then she started to sing, but not in voiceover. Sarah Brightman left the scene to go get a coffee.

"Shoot ONCE again with me," she began. Marius looked around curiously. "At strange targets. My power OOOOOver you...grows stronger yet..."

CUT! Marius was on a random horsie. He looked back at where they had come from, probably wondering how they were to get back, as the sewers, in addition to being disgusting, were rather labyrinth-ish. He had obviously forgotten that Éponine knew her way around.

"And though you TURN from me...to glance behind...the PHANtom of the Barricade is there...inside your mind..."

Éponine helped Marius down from the horsie and I decide that I don't like Len Cariou as Sweeney. No, really, he isn't that great. Well, he's better than Depp, at least. And once you get over her Mrs. Potts-ness, though, Angela Lansbury is an awesome Lovett. What? The fic? Oh, right.

CUT! Éponine gondalaed (izzat a word?) Marius through the...stuff...in the sewers. You really have to wonder why she had to build her hideout or whatever that far from the barricade. Anyway, we are looking at the two of them from the back, and I can't tell whether Marius is singing in voiceover or not.

"Those WHO have seen your face...draw back in an emotion that is the opposite of glee...(that's just a guess, mind...since I don't know why else you'd cover it up with a mask)...I AM the mask you wear..."

"It's me they see!" Éponine finished.

"Your spirit and my gun!" sang Marius.

"My spirit and your gun!" sang Éponine, at the EXACT SAME TIME. I mean, these people have skillz, to be able to do that. Guess they're practiced from ALFOR, though.

"In ONE combined..." they sang... "The PHANtom of the Barricade is there..."

"Inside my mind..."

"Inside your mind..."

A chorus started up. "She's there, the Phantom of the Barricade...beware, the Phantom of the Barricade..." Marius responded by saying...

"Ooh, mist!"

"Shoot, my Angel of Battle!" Éponine cried, as a target appeared out of the mist before it. Marius obediently pulled his trusty gun out of thin air and shot at it.

"Shoot, my Angel!" Another target appeared.

"Shoot for MEEEEEEEEEEE!" And another.

"Shoot, my Angel!" And anotherandanotherandanotherand—

"We're HERE!" shouted Éponine, and epically swooshed off her swirly cape in a swooshily epic display of swooshy epicness.

**Was this chapter, like, twice as weird as the others, or is it just me?**

**Eep. Just did a word count and discovered it was a terribly short chapter. Here. Have some candy because I'm very sorry. I have jolly ranchers and gum and jelly beans and gummy bears and a terrible, terrible feeling I could ramble on to you guys for hours.**

**But I won't.**

**So there.**

**So, do you have any favorite quotes? Do you think this is an awesome story? Do you think this is a terrible story? Do you like Les Mis? Do you like Phantom? Do you like Sweeney Todd? Do you have an allergic reaction to peanut butter? I'd love to hear from ya!**

**-Psycho Todd, the Demon Author of Fleet Street (What? I'm not gonna bake you guys into pies! Heh...heh...where would you get an idea like that?)**


	9. THE GUNSHOTS IN THE NIGHT

**Sorry, sorry. Life caught up to me. And I have no plan for how I'm going to parody 'Music of the Night', so this chapter might be complete crap too. Sorry.**

**Darci the Thespian-Ah...huh...*doesn't remember what questions she asked***

**Mars-*eye roll***

**Mars Again-*eye roll***

**Guest I-Thanks! I'm pretty sure 'Masquerade' is going to be the really fun one, though...not sure...**

**Om-Ah well. Does that mean I'm getting weirder? Don't answer that; I know the answer.**

**Double Trouble-Yay, a new reader! Uh, I didn't exactly update soon, though...speaking as a Cosette-lover and rabid-Raoul-fangirl, I don't really understand how anyone could hate either of them...I mean, liking Éponine/Erik better is fine, but hating them? I guess other people see them differently...**

**AJ-I was on my way to being addicted when you arrived and then I was like, "Hey, someone insane! Like me! I'm definitely sticking around."**

**AJ Again-*sob***

**Guest II-Um...this was two and a half weeks late, but...I'm updating! *awkward smile***

Marius and Éponine had arrived at a small, cozy, (albeit stinky) home-ish place covered in candles and stuff on the side of the sewer. Éponine hopped up and, as aforementioned, swooshed off her cape. Epically. Marius looked from her to the river of sludge and back, gripped the side of the boat, and elected to stay in the boat.

Éponine, staring at Marius, began another song. Marius groaned. Her voice was so raspy and terrible and drunkardly. Who would ever give her a song all to herself in a world-famous musical?

Oh. Right.

"Nighttime, sharpens, hightens each sensation! Darkness, stirs and, wakes imagination! Silently the senses abandon their defenses..."

Marius and I were relieved that Tim Rice was proving relevant to the situation so far.

"Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor! Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender!"

This was getting boring, Marius decided. He stood up and peered over his shoulder to see if he could find the way back. Éponine grabbed his chin and pulled him towards her. "Turn your face away from the garish light of day! Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light...and listen to the gunshots in the night."

Marius had a derpy expression on his face as he followed Éponine around.

"Close your eyyyyyyes and surrender to your darkest dreams! Purge your thoooooooughts of the life you knew before! Close your eyes, let your spirit start to sooooooar!"

Marius cringed as Éponine tried and failed to hit the high note.

"And you'll live as you've never lived before..." She took a deep breath.

"LOUDly, CONFUSINGly, gunshots, they will whaaaaaaaaaaaaack you! NATional! GUARDSmen! Trying to attaaaaaaaaack you! Open up your mind, and admit that you're resigned to this darkness that you know you cannot fight...the darkness of the gunshots in the night!"

Seriously, there were, like, a lot of candles here, guys. All different. All lit. Marius wondered if the Phantom had a fear of the dark.

"Let your miiiiind start a journey through a strange new world! Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before! Let your soul take you where you long to beeeeeeeee!"

Marius tried to raise an eyebrow in a way that meant, _My soul longs to be upstairs eating dinner with Cosette, kthnxbai_, but Éponine apparently didn't get the message as she gazed at him, enthralled.

"Only then can you belong to me..."

Éponine came towards him. Marius edged away slowly, but she grabbed him and stared into his eyes. "Floating, falling, sweet intoxication...touch me..."

_No thanks._

"...trust me..."

_Definitely not_.

"...savor each sensation!"

_I'm trying to be polite but I'm JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU! Please take me back._

"Let the dream begin!"

_Talk about guns again! You're freaking me out!_

"Let your darker side give in!"

_I don't have a dark side! Seriously! My goal in life is to repay my father's debts!_

Alas, Éponine was privy to none of these thoughts. "To the power that you know you cannot fight...the power of the gunshots in the night!"

Marius nervously followed Éponine as she showed him...

_OH MY NAPOLEON!_

Marius conked out.

Éponine picked him up and dumped him unceremoniously next to her bed, where she could stare at him as he slept. She softly sang, "You alone can make my bullets take flight...that sounds weird...help me make the music of the night."

That was such utter crap I'm going to do another scene. Yay.

BARRICADE FUNTIMES

Montparnasse was scaring the heebie-jeebies out of the Barricade Boys. He had an old blanket on his back like a cloak, and snarled at them. "Like yellow parchment is her skin..."

Some of the BBs ran away.

"A great black hole serves as the nose that never grew..." Courfeyrac looked up curiously. Montparnasse continued, "You must be always on your guard...or she will catch you with her—"

He found the blanket yanked off his back by Gavroche, appearing suddenly. He sulkily wiped the last traces of fuzz from his suit as Gavroche said, "Those who speak of what they know...find too late that prudent silence is wise FORESHADOWING FORESHADOWING Montparnasse, do hold your tongue...and keep your hand at the level of your eyes!" Gavroche yanked a noose around Montparnasse's neck and left the scene as the dandy and the revolutionaries stared after him, shaken.

**Guys, I don't know what to say. I'm just really, really sorry this chapter was so bad.**


	10. NOTES FROM BG WITH UNPOETICALNESS

**Darci-Thanks. You know, I read it back over and actually kind of liked it. It just seemed bad to me at the time. Ah well.**

**Om-ONCE HIS TEETH WERE BARED, THOUGH,I REALLY GOT SCARED...ugh, my voice is AWFUL. *sobs* Curse Danielle Ferland and her talentedness.**

**Double Trouble-Hey, no worries! _Hakuna Matata!_ You're entitled to your opinions of every character, no matter what they may be. I am glad you like Cosette and Raoul, though. :)**

**Mars-So am I! Yay! Well, I guess ****_you_**** knew I was back, as we've been exchanging fifty emails a day...but, you know. Back to the fic.**

Enjolras was looking puzzled, an unusual experience for him. He was entering the Corinthe for a much-needed rest, as he had been swarmed by revolutionists demanding to know where their savior Marius was. If only he knew. Unfortunately, the National Guard had also overheard of Pontmercy's disappearance-considering Enjolras had been able to hear _them_ discussing it loud and clear, it wasn't exactly a mystery how.

He glanced out the window at the gossiping revolutionaries. No better than a flock of geese, the lot of them. Suddenly he decided to...

DUN

DUN

DUN

Start singing.

"'Mystery on the battle night,' they say, 'Mystery of our hero's flight'...'Mystified,' all the Guardsmen say, 'We are mystified, and the rebels will pay..." He shook his head. Those silly National Guardsmen. He heard _their_ leader had disappeared, too-the leader with the mustache; something about being 'kidnapped by the Authoress'. But did they talk about _that? _NO. "Bad luck for our group's morale-Valjean then Courfeyrac's pal...now who will inspire our men? Still, the volunteers flow in."

Enjolras sighed and looked around the café for Combeferre; maybe he could help sort this out, or had seen Pontmercy. "Funny sort of revolution! Spare me this unending _bore_. When your star goes astray, (why, it's quite cliché!)...VIVE LA FRANCE, to heck with that dumb baron, I am AARON and I'm gonna win this war!"

"DAMNABLE!" Combeferre was shouting suddenly. "He's not anywhere, this is DAMNABLE-"

"Combeferre, PLEASE DON'T SWEAR!" hissed Enjolras. "It's reBELLion, that's what matters most, it's reBELLion!"

"Without MARIUS, we're toast!" insisted Combeferre.

Enjolras at this point went on a very, very, very, very, very, very long-winded tangent about the importance of France. Combeferre listened patiently for a while, then, finally got irritated. Searching for a reason to end the speech, his eyes fell on a tattered piece of paper sticking out of Enjolras' pocket. "Ah, it seems you've got one too."

Enjolras had been getting quite worked up and excited, but as he remembered the paper, he frowned. He took it out of his pocket and read it aloud. "'Dear Enjy-'" he made a face. "'what a...lovely...battle. Marius was in a word, RICH AND HAWT. Without Valjean, we were just that much better. GET RID OF HIM. Lots of love, B.G.'" He frowned. "She needs to go back to poetry school."

Combeferre nodded sympathetically as he took out his own tattered letter. "'Dear 'Ferre Bear-'"

Enjolras let out a loud giggle. When Combeferre glared at him, he coughed. "I didn't say anything."

Combeferre eyed him suspiciously before continuing, "'YOU DIDN'T GIVE ME MY FREAKING MONEY. WHY NOT? ARGH ARGH ARGH. It's okay, you can keep it. Hugs and kisses, B.G.'"

Both shouted, "Who would have the gall to send this? Someone with a puerile brain!"

"These are both signed B.G.-" Enjolras noted.

"Who the _heck_ is she?" Combeferre wondered.

"Barricade Ghost!" they cried together.

"This is nothing short of shocking-"

"She is mocking our position-"

They continued in this vein until Cosette stormed into the room. "Where is he?"

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Your precious _Papa?_"

"I mean the baron, where is he?"

"Well, how should we know?" protested Combeferre.

Cosette glared at him. "I want an answer! I take it that you sent me this note."

"What's all this nonsense?" asked Enjolras.

"Of COURSE not!" shouted Combeferre.

"Don't look at us!"

"He's not with you then?"

"Of COURSE not!" repeated Combeferre.

"We're in the dark," confessed Enjolras.

"Messieurs, don't argue," Cosette insisted, "isn't this the letter you wrote?"

Enjolras glowered. "And what is it that we're meant to have wrote?"

"ENJOLRAS!" Combeferre exploded.

"What?"

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT GRAMMAR? IT'S IMPORTANT! IT'S A TOOL WE USE TO FIGHT IGNORANCE!"

The blond man sighed. "_Written."_

"Thank you," said Combeferre, satisfied.

Enjolras took the letter from Cosette and read, "'Marius is mine. Deal with it..." He paused. "'Female dog. Smell ya later, Angel of Battle.'"

"If _you_ didn't write it, then who did?" asked Cosette.

"Where ees she?" asked Valjean. Cosette quickly hid her face in her...um...fan. Did girls in nineteenth century France have fans?

**Yeah...this chapter is TBC next update. I'm bored with it. What was your favorite line? Tell tell tell. **


End file.
